


Kaleidoscope

by agapi42



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, only in chapter eight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agapi42/pseuds/agapi42
Summary: A collection of drabbles written forthe May 2019 Hackle Drabble Tree.





	1. Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: these have all been edited slightly from the versions on Tumblr to make them exactly 100 words. Turns out the online word counter I was using was not entirely accurate.

Ada had always liked pink. It was a cheerful, optimistic colour: the freshness of cherry blossoms in spring; the strength of rose quartz; the sweetness of raspberries. It could be soft or bright but always warm. Putting on pink made Ada smile each morning.

Pink suited Hecate too, from the cerise lipstick she applied every day to the delicate blush that sometimes coloured her cheeks and the too-big magenta cardigan she cuddled into on cold nights.

Looking from the baby pink tutu Dimity was proposing as Hecate’s costume for that year’s pantomime to Hecate’s face, Ada decided against saying this.


	2. Focus

Hecate is careful. Meticulous. She brews potions to perfection, knowing just how to build the desired reaction with patience and the right mix of ingredients. Each one of her plants benefits from her gentle touch and single-minded attention. Ada loves how Hecate looks when concentrating: the intent in her eyes, the slight furrow in her brow. She watches how her hands move, curling and turning, creating marvels.

The third time Ada wakes from a dizzying, breath-taking dream of Hecate’s focus turned upon her, she wonders if it would help to stop watching. The fourth, she knows she’s too far gone.


	3. Not Your Fault

“It’s not your fault, Hecate.”

Hecate waves a dismissive hand and continues pacing the length of Ada’s office.

“No-one was hurt,” Ada tries again.

“By whatever grace; it shouldn’t have happened!”

“By your grace, Hecate,” Ada reminds her. “Transporting the entire class across the castle like that was no mean feat.”

As if reminded, Hecate stumbles slightly, catching herself on Ada’s desk.

Ada is up and at her side in her moment.

“I don’t expect you to be omniscient, Hecate. You acted commendably; the danger is past; now, please, sit with me.”

Hecate raises her eyes to Ada’s. She nods.


	4. Fake Date

When Hecate first suggested the pretence, she hadn’t had any ulterior motives. If, for some obscure reason, Ada needed a partner (a partner and not just a companion) for the ball, far better it be her than to allow Ada to be randomly paired with another unattached attendee.

It made absolute sense to her when Ada suggested that they would be quite a private couple—of course they would—and that there was no need for any public physical affection beyond that which was already encompassed by their friendship.

What didn’t make sense was the sting of disappointment Hecate felt.


	5. Cold Hands

Ada is waiting for Hecate in the courtyard, arms wrapped round herself, thoroughly bundled up against the cold.

“Let’s get you inside,” Ada says, reaching out to take Hecate’s hands.

“I’m fine,” Hecate protests, or tries to. Her teeth chatter, betraying her.

Ada transfers them both to her rooms, where a roaring fire has been built in the grate. She rubs Hecate’s hands between her own, wrapping them in warm magic.

Hecate watches Ada work, biting her lip in concentration, and her heart feels full with her care. Ada glances up, catching her eye, and smiles.

“Cold hands, warm heart.”


	6. Midnight in the Library

It’s past midnight when Ada puts her book aside. No sign of Hecate but Ada isn’t unduly concerned: she does, after all, tend to get rather caught up in her research projects. She chooses to walk the corridors rather than transfer. Nighttime suits this hush, the castle empty but for them.

She finds Hecate in the library, as expected, absorbed in a lavishly illustrated text. She doesn’t look up till Ada touches her shoulder.

“Ada.” She blinks. “You’re back early. Do you want dinner?”

Ada can’t help her smile. “Daft apeth. Come to bed.” She’ll make breakfast in the morning.


	7. Poison

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare,” Ada chants, as if voicing the words thundering in her head and her veins will make them more compelling.

Hecate is stubbornly, frighteningly still under her hands, only her chest rising and falling with increasingly shallow breaths. Time is of the essence here: the jellynid poison is fast-acting. Ada pushes _everything_ into the spell and, an agonising moment later, is rewarded by Hecate’s eyes slowly opening.

“Stop protecting me,” Ada scolds, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t,” Hecate says hoarsely.

“Nor could I if I lost you.”


	8. No Longer a Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character death. This one is [cassiopeiasara's fault ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725785/chapters/44416312).

As the elder daughter and heir, Ada grew up knowing her path always came back to Cackle’s.

She hadn’t expected Hecate. Not anticipated the way Hecate’s heart and soul would knit with hers; not imagined that the castle would become a home more through her presence than through the title of Headmistress. Or how empty it would seem with her loss.

Ada made it through five years. With this final graduation, there was no longer any memory of Hecate, Miss Hardbroom, HB, amongst the girls. It was time to go. She’d see what she could make of this unexpected path.


	9. Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Meridel fixed it. ](https://meridelclarke.tumblr.com/post/184676529509/welcome-to-the-hackle-drabble-tree)

She can’t stop touching her, innocent touches, wanting touches, passing touches, lingering touches. She curls close in bed and clutches her hand as they walk. If she can touch her, she is real. If she holds her, she will not be lost again. That first mirror call to Dimity, where she shouted loud enough to shake the walls, quelled any lingering doubts Ada might have had but she knew, from the moment she saw her. Her skin sings, her heart rejoices, her very bones ache with the verisimilitude of the feeling. Hecate Hardbroom is with her and she is home.


	10. Light in the Darkness

It has been dark a week. It seems an age. The darkness spills in through the windows, swarms the air. A lantern now sits on every desk, each girl in a distinct pool of light.  

Ada remains sunny but Hecate stands closer than most, can see the strain and shadows in her eyes. She misses seeing Ada in the morning light, bright and full of hope.

In a distant, windowless corner of the dungeons, where the darkness is only natural, she creates a replica of the rose gardens in mid-morning.

Ada’s smile is brighter than any light Hecate can conjure.


	11. Command the Tide

The tide is far, far out when they reach the beach, sea shining almost at the horizon, wet and glimmering sands stretching before them.

Ada’s face falls. “Oh.”

“Looks like a bit of a walk to take a paddle,” Algernon observes. “It’s a nice flat field, though. Who’s up for a game of witchket?”  

“Excellent idea. Do you want first bat?” Dimity asks.  

Hecate squeezes Ada’s hand slightly, her chest aching with how much she wants to pull the ocean to them, arrange the world to Ada’s liking, anything to make her happy. Ada squeezes back and volunteers to field.


	12. Sharing a Broom

Hecate didn’t know whether to curse or bless her luck.

Ada’s broom had failed to fly: bad.

A nearby broomstick repair shop had quickly diagnosed the problem: good.

It would only take three hours to resolve: good.

They couldn’t delay their departure any longer as there was a storm forecast and they had to be back for Selection Day tomorrow: bad.

So they were sharing Hecate’s broom, with Ada’s slung underneath. Ada’s arms were wrapped tightly around Hecate’s waist, her cheek pressed against her shoulder.

She’d regret it later, Hecate decided. For now, she let herself relax into Ada’s closeness.


	13. Rosemary Wreath

“Ada?”

Ada secured the last sprig and looked up, blinking at the light Hecate carried. The sun was all but gone and Hecate was already dressed for bed, long hair streaming down her back, bare feet curled into the cool grass.

“Hecate.” She beamed and held up the wreath.

“For me?” Hecate said softly.

Ada nodded and, getting to her feet, reached to place it on Hecate’s head; Hecate caught her wrist.

“In the morning.”

\--

Rosemary for loyalty, memory and luck. Watching Hecate walk down the aisle towards her, wreath atop her head, Ada felt like the luckiest woman alive.


	14. So Close

They’ve been conversing with heads bent, focused on their papers, and when their hands collide reaching for the same paper and they both raise their heads at the same time, Hecate is surprised by how close they are. Close enough to feel Ada’s warmth, to see the texture of her skin, to drown in her eyes… She’s staring. Ada’s not pulling away. They’ve been close before, briefly, softly, in passing but this is stretching far past that into something new, something weighty and important.   
  
And then there’s a distant bang and the alarm spells start screaming. Of course they do.


	15. Lost

Hecate feels like she’s drowning, suffocating. Magic here is the wrong shape, uncomfortable and laborious to grasp.

She dreams of endless corridors, glimpses of pink jumpers disappearing around corners, running and not moving, reaching and never touching. Other times she dreams of Ada’s arms around her and wakes weeping helplessly.

“Are you quite all right, Constance?”

Hecate raises her eyes to meet Amelia’s. Blue eyes, far quicker to temper than Ada, just like and unlike enough to make Ada seem impossibly far away.

“Perfectly, Headmistress.” She takes a sip of tea, her throat tight with longing.

_Please, Ada, find me._


	16. Flowers

“What’s your favourite flower?” Ada asked, a seemingly idle question for an idle hour.

Hecate regarded her teacup. “Lavender, perhaps. Or nasturtium. They’ve a wide range of applications.”

“So they have.” Ada took a sip.

“Yours?”

“Roses,” Ada answered without hesitation.

“Very useful.” Hecate nodded.

Ada smiled. “My criteria differ from yours. I just think they’re beautiful.”

“They’re rather…” Hecate frowned “…spiky.”

“Oh, that’s just part of the attraction.”

The topic might have been thought forgotten but for the next day. Entering her office, Ada found the white mouse on her desk clutching a deep pink rose in its paws.


	17. Morning Tickles

Morning sun streamed through the window. Ada propped her head in her hand and gazed down at her wife, dark hair loose and strewn across the pillows.

“Hecate?”

An enquiring hum.

“It’s time to get up.”

A displeased hum, more of a grumble, really.  

“Don’t make me…” Under the covers, Ada danced her fingers along Hecate’s side.  

Hecate seemed unmoved by the threat. If anything, she shifted slightly towards Ada, a smile curling at the very corners of her mouth.

That Miss Hardbroom had a softer side was hardly a secret. How very much she enjoyed being tickled definitely was.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Light in the Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207980) by [yetanotherramblingfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherramblingfangirl/pseuds/yetanotherramblingfangirl)




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